


what’s wrong with your own clothes?

by astrangepurplefairy



Series: the adventures of a wild sprace’s apartment [5]
Category: Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Blush - Freeform, Multi, Sprace Apartment AU, Wtf am I doing, a banana costume, crunch - Freeform, elbert - Freeform, hypothermia??, mom spot, newsbians, pining javid, race likes spot’s clothes, sprace, wearing each other’s clothes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-29
Updated: 2019-07-29
Packaged: 2020-07-25 20:57:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20032228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astrangepurplefairy/pseuds/astrangepurplefairy
Summary: four times race wears spot’s clothes instead of his own





	what’s wrong with your own clothes?

**Author's Note:**

> this is pure fluff and then some angst??  
i actually really enjoy this so i hope you do to!!

The first time it happens, it’s with Spot’s favorite hoodie, which he never gets back. He’d been looking for almost twenty minutes now, and he’s convinced it’s disappeared into thin air.

Spot pulls out his phone, still looking, and pins it between his shoulder and his ear as he tears through his closet. 

Race picks up on the third ring. “Ahoy!” He calls.

Spot takes a moment to be utterly silent, for emphasis on how strange his roommate answers the phone, and then says, “Have you seen my lifeguard hoodie?”

There’s a long pause, and Spot knows immediately where it’s gone. Still, Race responds. “ _Noooo.”_

Spot stops looking and wishes he could glare through the phone. “You’re wearing it, aren’t you?”

Race lets out a little “tee-hee” that makes Spot want to smile. “It’s just so soft!” He objects. The grin is obvious in his voice.

“I’m gonna kill you, Tonio, I’m gonna do it.” Spot says, but Race just laughs and laughs. “You’re going to return it tonight.”

“Well, the probability of that is zero, but you go right ahead and think so.”

“You’re an ass.”

“A great ass.”

“I’m hanging up now!” Spot says firmly, trying not to let his amusement show in his voice.

“I love you!” Race calls mockingly.

“Die!” Spot responds, but there’s no malice in his tone.

He hangs up before Race can shoot something quippy back, and really wishes he could be truly upset that his favorite sweatshirt was stolen. But then the image of Race, out in public, swamped in his clothes, enters his head, and instead, he has to hold back a grin.

The second time, he comes home from work to the strangest sight he’s ever encountered. Race is standing in the middle of the living room in a banana suit, an alarmed expression on his face, like he also doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing.

Spot sighed, as if his life was the most difficult thing to endure. “Why are you in a banana suit?”

Race strikes a pose. “Because it exists.” He says dramatically.

Spot fixes him with a knowing, bored look.

Race drops his pose and sighs. “I can’t find any pants.”

“I put them in the laundry before I left.” Spot laughed, shaking his head. “They won’t be done for another hour, just wear something of mine.”

Race gestures to his body, still in the banana suit, and raises a brow. “You think your pants are going to fit me?” He snarks.

Spot stared at him. “Do you _want_ to  stay in the banana suit?” He says lowly, and Race shakes his head and scampers into Spot’s bedroom to raid his closet, shutting the door behind him.

He returns five minutes later, sans fruit costume, wearing instead a pair of black jeans that are loose around his legs but only fall to his mid-calf. He’s also donned Spot’s favorite Rush 2112 shirt, which swamps his thin frame, and is thumbing at the hem with a look of alarm on his face.

“This shirt is so soft.” He remarks with quiet surprise, sitting down beside Spot.

Spot leans into his side unconsciously. “It’s also my favorite, so you better give it back.”

“I will.” Race assures, brushing one hand along Spot’s curls.

He doesn’t.

Spot can’t find it in him to be upset about it.

The third time has larger repercussions. 

They’re at the annual Friday movie night, this one hosted at Jack and Davey’s apartment. The movie hasn’t actually started yet, because they always have pizza and chips beforehand, and Spot and Race are pressed together in Jack’s recliner, Spot between Race’s legs. Kath is talking about how strange Sarah is before she has coffee—not grumpy, just fucking weird, saying random shit and doing erratic dance moves.

“Race is fuckin’ weird, too.” Spot butts in, and yelps when Race pinches him. “With or without coffee.” He adds.

Spot can’t see him, but he _knows_ Race is rolling his eyes. “I’m not as weird as you.”

Spot turns to look at him incredulously. “You eat cereal like a gremlin.”

“It’s not that unusual!”

“You use a fork!”

Race gaped. “Because I don’t like the milk!”

“The milk is the best part!” Spot objects, gesturing wildly.

“That is a flat out lie!” Race yelled. His eyes were wide and sparkling with amusement, even though he seemed to have no intention of backing off his argument.

Spot sighed. “Do you ever just chill?”

Race flicked a chip at him. “No.”

“First of all,” Jack cuts in from his spot beside Davey. “Race, what the fuck? No one eats cereal like that.”

The group nods, and Race flips them off.

“Second of all,” He goes on, and turns to Kath and Sarah. “You have to demonstrate some of these moves, Saz.”

Sarah sighs and does as told, and they all laugh rowdily as they watch. Spot loves movie night. He loves his friends—he won’t say it, but he does—and he loves pizza and he loves movies. Everyone is always relaxed at movie night. It’s just  _good_. He leans into Race’s chest and sighs contentedly when Race’s arms wrap around his waist.

“Race?” Crutchie says with a little smirk, and everyone turns to look at him. “Isn’t that Spot’s shirt?”

Spot turns to look at the same time that Race does, and then laughs. Race is, in fact, wearing his flannel, loose on his torso and rolled up at the elbows. He looks good.

“Yeah.” Race says airily, and Spot shifts back to his original position, facing everyone.

They’re silent for a long moment, staring expectantly.

“What?” Spot says finally, shaking his head a little.

Elmer literally falls backwards and buries his face in Albert’s lap, huffing. Kath and Sarah just chuckle knowingly, Blink and Mush are whispering to each other, and Jack and Davey keep staring. Crutchie and Finch are giggling like children.

“Okay, for real, what?” Race says, annoyance and confusion seeping into his tone.

“You two share clothes?” Jack asks with a knowing smile, looking at them through his lashes.

Spot shrugs and Race says, “I wear Spot’s clothes a lot, yeah. They’re comfy.”

Everyone nods and exchanges silent, impish looks, raising brows and pursing lips through smiles. Spot looks back to Race to see if he knows what the hell is going on, but he seems equally as confused. His blonde brows are drawn together, mouth set into a frown that Spot wishes he could brush away. He doesn’t like the way it looks on Race’s mouth.

“Just date already!” Elmer yells, his voice muffled in Albert’s lap, and he throws one hand up in impatience.

Race and Spot both start laughing at the same time, shaking their heads. “No.” They say in sync, and Spot adds, “We’re just friends.”

“We don’t like each other.” Race assures.

“You sure about that?” Jack asks.

Spot purses his lips, anger coursing through his system, and Race’s hand slides to thread through his. He accepts it gratefully. “Yes, we’re sure about that.” He huffs.

“You’re holding hands.”

“You and Davey hold hands.” Spot says gruffly, if only because he knows it’ll get Jack off his back.

“Yeah, but—“ Jack starts, and then cuts himself off, glancing away. The entire room is looking at he and Davey now, sitting stiffly on the couch.

Davey is staring at Jack with wide eyes. “But?” He prompts quietly, gaze trained on Jack’s flushed face.

“Oh, look, everyone’s done!” Mush cuts in conveniently, clapping his hands. “Let’s start the movie!” Blink nods too firmly, and turns on the TV.

Leave it to Blink and Mush to save the day.

Spot glances at Jack and Davey, hoping that they’ll finally just talk things through and get together, they’re so obviously in love. He thinks about Race, too, who’s hold hasn’t wavered on him throughout the entire conversation. Spot knows Race is his best friend, and Race knows Spot is his, and Spot’s glad that no outside force can change that.

He settles against Race’s body as the movie starts, feeling the familiar fabric of _his_ shirt on his skin, and exhales contentedly.

Why shouldn’t best friends cuddle and share clothes? It’s all platonic anyway.

Spot finds his cheeks burning, and has no idea why.

The fourth time it happens, Spot is scared out of his mind, and Race is freezing.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Spot hissed, pulling Race’s rain-soaked shirt off his shivering body and toweling the water from his skin. “It’s fifty degrees outside, you could get sick or get hypothermia, oh my god.” He says frantically, and tugs Race’s soaked jeans off his legs, throwing them to one side, before lunging for his closet. “Take off your underwear and put these on.” He demands, throwing a thick pair of sweatpants over his shoulder. He hears a slow rustle, and when he turns back around with thick socks and a sweatshirt in hand, Race is sitting on his bed in his sweatpants, shaking. His blonde hair, dark from the water, sticks to his golden brow and sends rivulets of rain trickling down his face. A crash of thunder sounds from outside.

Spot rushes forward and slips the sweatshirt over Race’s head before pressing a new, dry towel to his hair in some attempt to dry it. He runs it softly across Race’s face, heart thunking painfully in his chest at the blue shade of Race’s lips. Race’s feet slide into the thick socks, and Spot lays him down and throws the comforter as well as an extra blanket over him. He climbs into the bed beside Race and curls himself around his body, fear and worry wracking his nerves. Race pressed his head into Spot’s neck, against his warm skin, and Spot nearly yelped at the chill overlapping his face. His arms tighten over Race’s body, and he tucks the blanket up until it’s right under his chin, but no matter what he does, Race is still shivering like a leaf, teeth clacking together.

“Why didn’t you call me to pick you up?” Spot pleads desperately, his voice cracking, ten minutes later when Race is still shaking.

“I... d-didnt wan-nt to b-bother you-ou.” Race shudders out, his hands slipping under Spot’s shirt to press against his warm stomach. Spot almost cries in relief when he feels that the temperature of his skin is raising, if slowly.

“Tonio,” Spot exhales shakily, and then pressed his face against Race’s hair, crushing him into his body. “Tonio, Tonio.” He breathed, again and again, at an utter loss for words.

It’s another twenty minutes before Race stops shaking so bad it rattles Spot’s body as well, and ten more until all that’s left shivering are his hands. Goosebumps are still prominent on his exposed skin, and his eyes are still shut, though Spot’s periodically making sure he stays awake.

“Why are your clothes so much comfier than mine?” Race croaks against Spot’s neck.

Spot lets out a choked, relieved laugh, and then tears are running down his face, practically scalding, which seems unfair. He doesn’t know why he’s crying, particularly, whether it’s stress or bottled fear or just overwhelming relief, but he is and he can’t seem to stop himself, even though he can count how many times he’s cried in his life.

“Are you crying?” Race whispers, and leans back to put a hand on Spot’s tear-soaked cheek. “I’m sorry, Sean, I’m so sorry.” He tangles their legs together.

Spot laughs at himself. “If you ever pull a stunt like that again I will literally kill you, do you understand me? I’ll kill you.”

Race laughs, if weakly, and nods, burying his face in Spot’s chest. His hands are warm against Spot’s stomach. “I know.” He assures.

Spot exhales, the tears drying on his face, and for a reason he can’t decipher, he presses a kiss to Race’s damp hair, pulling him close until there’s no space between them.

He shuts his eyes, and they fall asleep entwined like vines, two halves of the same puzzle piece.

**Author's Note:**

> once again:  
GIVE SPOT FEELINGS 2K19  
have a great day love y’all!!  
<333


End file.
